


Mercy

by Hikari_and_Yami



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ancient Egypt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:23:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5615437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikari_and_Yami/pseuds/Hikari_and_Yami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wait," he said, surprising them both. "Can you... kiss me again? It would not hurt to have just one more memory, I suppose." - Egyptshipping/Puzzleshipping -</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the Puzzleshipping Song Contest on ffnet. It was an entry in Round 2 - which was 'Operator' by Nightcore. I am cross-posting it here. 
> 
> This fic is set in Ancient Egypt, which my knowledge of is so very limited, so I apologize in advance if my depiction of it is not entirely accurate! Of note, this was originally written as a single-chaptered oneshot, but once I got to approx. 12,000 words (the longest single chapter I've written to date), I determined that ahh, no, this deserves to be spread out more.
> 
> Warnings: Violence, Character Death(s), and mentions of male/male intercourse, oh my! ...AND sure, let's toss some angst in there.
> 
> Translations: Decans = AE Measure of time - also known as a week (which consisted of 10 days)

 

* * *

**Part 1**

* * *

"I do not _want_ to be Pharaoh."

The strap in his father's hand struck his skin, and the sickening sound of flesh splitting on impact filled the air. "You dare speak such filth," his father hissed, reeling his arm back, preparing for another blow. "It is a privilege to be blessed so by the Gods. Yet, you dismiss it so carelessly. What reason do you have for this?"

Twelve year-old Atem ignored the burn in his back and dismissed the streams of blood running down his legs to focus instead on his father's words. "I want to be free, Father," he answered, his voice steady, despite the quivering of his limbs and the aching of his back. "I desire the freedom to live as I so choose; to make decisions and cast judgments that do not affect or endanger the lives of thousands. I do not seek the power to decide who lives or who dies - only to chose how I live and how I die. I do not wish to play the role of a God, Father. I simply wish to be a mere mortal."

His father's face had twisted into one of pure disgrace at his words. "You are _weak_ , Atem. You always have been, and now you dare to stand before me, pleading for nothing more than the childish wish to flee from the responsibility assigned to you at birth. It _sickens_ me," his father snarled. "It is your fate to be Pharaoh."

"It is my _burden_."

Another lash of the strap against his bare skin had Atem falling to his hands and knees, a hiss of pain escaping from in between his clenched teeth.

"You cannot escape your destiny, you ungrateful child."

Pushing his hands against the blood-stained tiles underneath him, Atem raised from his knees to stand tall once more and meet the blazing eyes of his father. "I can certainly try."

* * *

**o0~0~0o**

* * *

Mana was a bundle of laughs and smiles when she bounced into his room on that fateful day. "Brother," she said as way of greeting. "Your presence is requested in the banquet hall. The festivities are ready to begin."

Atem heard her voice drift from his chambers out onto his adjoining balcony, where he stood, surveying the land around him. The noise from the city was one of jovial cheer and excitement. He had hoped, perhaps, that hearing it would in turn lighten his mood and rid him of the persistent sinking feeling in his gut that had taken residence inside of him ever since his father's passing.

It had not.

"I take it that it would be frowned upon for me not to attend my own coronation," Atem said to his younger sister over his shoulder.

Mana appeared next to him and lightly slapped his shoulder in jest. "Do not be so disheartened, Atem. You have been blessed that on your sixteenth year since birth, you are to be crowned Pharaoh, when Ra is highest in the sky."

Atem nodded, still gazing out into the wide expanse of land before him. "Yes, I suppose that is reason for celebration," he said.

The monotone comment earned him a small roll of Mana's brown eyes. "Father would be turning over in his tomb if he knew you to be so dismal during this time," she said.

"I would not be living up to his expectations if I did not find ways to disappoint him, even after his departure from this world."

This time, Atem felt more than saw the shift in Mana's demeanor - her bubbling energy fading away at his blunted tone and aura. Immediately wanting to rectify the damage he'd caused to Mana's spirit so carelessly, Atem removed his hands from the balcony railings to turn and smile at his younger sister, his arms reaching out so that he could take hold of both of her shoulders. "Forgive me, Mana," he said quietly, taking a step forward to embrace her fully. "I look forward to the festivities, I do, I do. I suppose I simply am still in the process of grieving over Father's early passing. As you know, our relationship did not end on the best of terms. I thought... I would have more time..."

Mana's arms suddenly came to wrap tight around his waist. "I understand, brother, I truly do. But believe me when I tell you that you have nothing to fear." She squeezed him once and then released him, taking a step back to smile up at her elder sibling. "You will rule justly and make Father proud, Atem." She gestured towards his chamber's doors. "Come now. Everyone is waiting for you."

Atem nodded, exhaling a deep breath from within but keeping the smile on his face as he followed Mana towards the doors - sinking feeling and all.

* * *

  **o0~0~0o**

* * *

"Great Pharaoh."

Atem glanced up from his throne, his eyes honing in on the High Priest making an appearance in the parting doorway. "You may speak, Karim."

The elder with short dark hair bowed on cue and then stepped further into the throne room. "It has come to my attention that the rebels responsible for the uprise in the city market last harvest have been found, hiding in a community to the East of the Nile."

Atem sat straighter in his throne - a reaction that mirrored that of his seated council members on the platforms around him.

The uprise had been the result of a faction of disgruntled citizens, who had been thoroughly displeased with his rule - or more accurately, the manner in which his family had ruled Egypt over the course of generations upon generations. It was a steadily growing hate for his family's royal blood line that had festered over the decades and that had reached its utmost volatility when his father had taken the throne due to the tyrant the man had exposed himself to be through cruel punishments and acts of torture.

And though Atem had ruled with a more gentle hand than his predecessor and much had calmed over the past several years since his succession, there still existed a hate for his family that dwelled in the hearts of just enough citizens to cause civil unrest on his land.

The civilian lives that had perished on that blistering hot afternoon had forever been a mar on Atem's reign as Pharaoh, for the uprise had happened so suddenly and unexpectedly that by the time Atem had mobilized troops to intercede on his behalf, the damage had been done and the lives already lost. Thus, the third year of his reign, nearing his nineteenth year of life, had been spent organizing mass burials and condemning those parties responsible for such heinous acts against their own people. The grief of Mana's sudden passing earlier that same year did nothing but fuel his rage towards those responsible.

"Most of the rebels resisted and tried to fight back," Karim was saying. "Those who did were immediately killed for their efforts. The guards have returned with the adults who have surrendered and the children who were deemed too young to have played an active role in the uprising."

"How many?" Atem asked evenly.

"Eleven, Great Pharaoh."

"Bring them in," Atem ordered, hands curling over the armrests of his throne. "Their fates will be determined, and their punishments handed down accordingly."

Karim nodded, gave a small bow of his head, then disappeared back outside the throne room doors. When he returned, he was accompanied by six guards, the armored men stringing along a row of shackled prisoners with small tugs of individual chains.

Stopping in the center of the room, the guards pushed at the prisoners shoulders, guiding them to their knees to show their respects and beg their Pharaoh for forgiveness. All the prisoners complied.

All the prisoners but _one_ , Atem noticed with a raise of his brow.

With a harsher shove and a threatening mutter, the guard behind the resistant prisoner forced the boy, who's tangled hair was covering his face, to his knees.

Then, to everyone's bewildered surprise that borderlined on shocked horror, the boy rose to his feet _again_.

A nearby council member, another of Atem's High Priests, immediately approached the boy, hand raised in a strike.

"Be still, Seth," Atem said, eyes falling on the council member who had just as well ceased in his advancement. Returning his gaze back to the boy, Atem gestured with a beckon of his fingers to two of the guards standing behind the shackled prisoner. "Bring him forth," he said.

Atem heard a snarl of detest fall from the boy's lips, as the guards hooked their hands under the prisoner's elbows and dragged him forward to the bottom of the stairs that led to the platform holding his throne. Atem took the opportunity that the closer proximity had provided him with to examine the boy.

He was, Atem silently registered, of short-statue and small build. His skin was lighter than most individuals Atem had encountered in his lifetime - it appeared more like a subtle tan of skin that may have been the color of cream had it not been exposed to Egypt's sun. The clothes the boy wore were tattered and torn, hanging off of his shoulders and exposing random patches of skin. The fabric, like his shins and arms, was smeared with dirt and grime. Atem noted a mane of several colors that nearly resembled his own, but fell in a way that shielded the boy's face from view.

Atem leaned forward in his throne, curious and weary.

"Look at me, child," he said.

There was reluctance in the way the boy kept his head down, but Atem would not _dare_ to repeat himself to a mere defiant boy who had associations with a rebel group. Atem glanced at the guard to the right of the boy, gave him a curt nod, and suddenly the boy's head was being jerked back by his hair, his features suddenly on display for all to see.

Atem paused when he caught sight of his face, but only for a millisecond - a hesitation that wouldn't be registered by even the quickest minds.

"What is your name, little one with eyes of wine?"

It was silent for a few moments, and Atem briefly wondered if the boy was deaf or even struck with a slowness that made him unable to understand language.

As quickly as the thought had entered his mind, however, it was dismissed, because not a few seconds later did the boy with raven hair and curls of honey _sneer_ at him, making it very clear that he understood the question asked of him and was blatantly refusing to answer.

The open display of disrespect was only further highlighted when the boy lowered his narrowed eyes to the floor, as if he deemed the Pharaoh not only unworthy of his words, but of his sight as well.

Atem noticed multiple persons jerk forward to react to the boy, seeking immediate retribution in the name of their Pharaoh. Unsure of his exact reasoning and surprised by even his almost instant reaction, Atem shot both of his hands in the air, halting movements from all sides.

" _Enough_ ," he said in a tone that demanded the attention of all persons that his voice had the ability to reach. Even the boy's eyes had snapped back to him at the sudden boom.

Pausing to stand from his throne to his feet, his back a regal straight, Atem gazed down at those hovering over the stairs below him. "Listen to me, child," Atem spoke, the baritone of his voice encasing his words. "Last harvest, in the city market, my people were killed by the individuals that you were found residing with. It is to be assumed that you either participated in or had knowledge of what transpired that day. What say you in your defense?"

It seemed, for a moment, that the boy would not respond in his quest to remain silent. But then the prisoner's eyes locked onto his, and he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"I am not guilty of any wrongdoing," the boy declared, and those were the first words he'd ever said to Atem.

The Pharaoh felt the beat of his heart still at the light quality of the boy's voice. "How so?" Atem questioned.

"I was not present in the city market that day, nor aware of what had occurred until after the fact."

"So, you plead ignorance?"

"I plead _nothing_ ," the boy hissed, tousled locks brushing against his cheeks at the shake of his head. "I have done nothing wrong, and I will not offer you any pleas, nor will I grovel for your forgiveness for something I had no part of. I do not believe that the violence that you spread and rule this land with can be rectified with more violence. I am certain of my innocence in this matter, and I am at peace knowing that I did not cause any loss of life that day. But ask yourself, Pharaoh, are _you_ at peace with the role you played that day?"

This time when Seth struck the boy across the face, Atem did not object. "Do you seek out punishment, little one? Judging by your careless words, it would certainly seem so."

The prisoner did not answer, choosing instead to glare down at the floor, anger etching into every crevice and line of his face.

In lieu of coaxing a response from the boy, Atem continued to speak. "If your words are truthful, and may you face the wrath of the Gods if they are not, then I will spare your life. However, I cannot condone you not coming forward before now. You withheld the identities of the individuals responsible for carrying out these crimes against this land, and that cannot go unpunished. Therefore, I sentence you to a life of servitude within the palace to make amends for such a lapse in judgement." Atem turned his gaze to the ebony-haired Priest. "Karim, take this prisoner to the bathes and provide him new dressings. See to it that he is taught the rules of the palace, as well as his role as my personal servant."

It was no sooner than he had given the order that Karim was bowing and, with the help of the guards, escorting the prisoner out of the throne room.

And as the small group vanished around the doors, a slew of curses fell from the boy's lips, making it known to all that the prisoner was very much aware of what exactly he was being sentenced to.

* * *

  **o0~0~0o**

* * *

This boy with no name but eyes of grape vines was already in his room when Atem retired for the night. He was dressed in a white shawl that fell loosely from his hips, the rest of his skin bare, which allowed Atem to see the newly formed bruises around his wrists and the red welts across his stomach and down his back.

That face that Atem had immediately been captivated with was swollen with pink cheeks and dried tears, those eyes lined a bright red. Atem was not surprised by the sight - after all, his staff would never allow such disrespect to go unpunished and would take appropriate measures to discourage such behavior in the future - but he still felt himself sigh as he settled in the chair by his vanity and removed his crown. Placing it on the wooden surface, Atem turned in his seat to gaze over at the boy standing resentfully in the corner of the room.

"Come," Atem said - a demand that sounded much more like a request than it should've.

The boy looked reluctant to oblige and, when the rosy lips parted, Atem was sure it was to voice a protest. It came as a pleasant surprise then when the boy's mouth closed, and he slunk towards him with small shuffle of his feet. As soon as the other had come close enough, Atem clasped his hands around the slim hips and, centering the smaller body in between his legs, Atem raised a hand to brush his fingers along the boy's collarbone. His skin was creamy to the extent that Atem almost expected his fingers to come away damp.

Wanting to feel the plush skin against his lips, Atem leaned forward and kissed the hollow of the boy's neck. He reveled in the sensation and warmth for only a moment and, when Atem pulled back to meet the boy's gaze once more, Atem saw not the blazing indignation that he witnessed in the throne room earlier, but rather a cooled-over hate layering those plum eyes like a sheet of ice - a loathing that felt chilled, and that lingered right beneath his skin.

"Do you understand your role in this palace?" Atem asked him directly.

The boy clenched his jaw, as if he wanted to refrain from answering, but had suddenly become all too aware of the possible consequences in doing so if the darkening pigmentation of his skin was anything to go by.

"I am to do as you say," the boy finally said.

"That is true," Atem assented. "You will report here to me every eve, and you will be checked by the guards prior to entry into my chambers to ensure that you do not have weapons or anything that you have no reason to possess on your person. Understood?"

When the boy did little more than nod in response, the Pharaoh took to watching the other silently, the boy's icy gaze never wavering from his, as Atem took in the smaller's gently brushed hair and his freshly cleaned skin. He was suddenly close enough to the other, Atem realized, that he was able to appreciate that the one before him possessed a beauty not of this earth.

Never, Atem decided, had he been graced with another individual that rivaled the wonder of the sun and sands, and his instinctual desire to contain such beauty and have it all to himself overcame him for but a moment.

It was evident in the slave's stance and the bitterness in his eyes that this boy was not one who wished to be bottled and stored away as a possession, and to do so would have been cruel and clearly against his will.

Atem allowed a sigh to pass his lips and stood to his feet to guide the other to his bed. Every muscle in the smaller body tensed when Atem settled him on top of the sheets, and they only loosened upon hearing Atem's next words.

"Rest, little one. I imagine you have been through a great deal today."

The boy watched him with suspicious narrowed eyes, as Atem returned to his vanity and continued to undo the many clasps and pieces of his attire. The boy did not utter a word during this time, nor did he bother to get comfortable in bed, choosing instead to lay on top of the sheets rather than under them.

Atem noticed this but said nothing, as he slipped into bed and laid down on his side next to boy, with the younger's back to him. "Do you like stories?" Atem asked him, lifting his hand to run his fingers through the boy's unknotted hair.

The smaller hesitated in his response, seemingly thrown off by both the question and the gentle hand in his hair. "Why?" he asked instead of answering.

Atem lifted one shoulder in half a shrug, though he knew the boy could not see the gesture. "I've always enjoyed telling them," he replied. "Would you like to hear one?"

Atem could almost hear the frown the boy must have pushed onto his face. "Well, I exist to please you, it would seem, so if you wish to tell a story, then I will listen."

Atem breathed out a sigh at the blunted remark, but once again, chose to ignore it. For reasons he did not quite know, his tolerance for such behavior was much higher with the boy in his bed than was typical for someone using such tones with him.

"There was once a man who lived in..." Atem began, allowing his voice to fill the encroaching darkness of the room, as he told the stories that he had heard since his youth to the one next to him.

For the remainder of the night, the boy did not open his mouth to speak or ask questions. He did not utter another word at all.

He simply laid quiet in silent, nearly tangible loathing.

* * *

  **o0~0~0o**

* * *

It took Atem by surprise then when the boy appeared to him the next day and willingly undressed, plucking the hem of his shawl and allowing the fabric to fall to the floor. His skin, Atem reveled as the boy climbed on top of him and kissed him deeply, was as soft as linens, and the breathless moans that escaped the slave's lips as the boy sunk down onto his arousal were enough to make Atem's heart stutter against his chest.

It was only when they had finished that Atem had turned over in the bed, sweat on his brow, to kiss the boy's jaw. The look, the ice in those eyes, was still present, but Atem paid no mind to it, choosing instead to brush the boy's bangs off of his face and caress his cheek with his thumb. "Tell me your name, little one," Atem whispered in his ear.

The boy gazed up at him, but Atem had the distinct feeling that the younger was still somehow looking past him, somewhere far away and just out of Atem's reach.

"Heba," he said.

* * *

  **o0~0~0o**

* * *

Heba, Atem discovered in the following three decans, was akin to a siren.

His desire for the smaller one had continued to grow by the day, but in spite of the softness of the boy's skin, there was a hardness in his eyes and a razor sharp edge to his voice. With the manner in which Heba interacted with him at times, Atem was sure that the boy would have no qualms with leading Atem out into a desolate shore or a bottomless abyss simply to watch him perish.

It made Atem's flourishing feelings towards the boy all the more complicated - especially since he was beginning to think that, despite the threat of death, he'd follow Heba wherever the boy wanted to go.

"Great Pharaoh."

Atem turned from his balcony to look at his healer, who was standing in the center of his room. "Isis," he greeted.

"Forgive me for the intrusion, Great Pharaoh," she said earnestly. "I do not mean to bother you during your resting period. However... you seemed troubled in court, and I wanted to ensure that you are feeling well."

Atem nodded at her words and offered her a small smile. "I apologize for my distraction," he said. "I must admit that I am not feeling myself as of late."

Isis looked concerned. "Have you fallen ill?"

"Not in the way that I am accustomed to." Atem gazed back out over his balcony, appearing thoughtful. "My chest aches but not with an illness that has a cure. I fear that there is no remedy for my pains."

There was a pause. "Is this concerning your slave, Great Pharaoh?"

Atem gave her a side-long glance. Isis had always been one of his closest confidants. "It is as you say. In a short amount of time, I have found myself unable to tolerate long periods of his absence, despite the observation that, more often than not, it seems like he'd sooner walk out to the execution block than be in my presence," he commented with a smile that held nothing short of empty humor.

"He does seem rather frigid in his interactions with others here. Perhaps, he simply needs more time to adjust to everything. How old is he?" Isis asked.

"Sixteen harvests, by his own account."

"Oh?" Isis appeared truly surprised by this. "I thought he to be much younger."

"His appearance is deceiving, is it not?"

"I would certainly say so."

The conversation took a brief pause, and Isis found the lull a reprieve that allowed her to consider her next words carefully. "You must proceed with caution, Great Pharaoh," she said slowly but with resolve. "What occurs within the walls of your chambers is for you to decide, but you must take action to ensure that this boy does not affect your judgement and ability to perform your duties as Pharaoh. Your people would not react kindly to the knowledge that you are bedding another man. Some may even see it as grounds for dethronement. You also must remember that the council will be pushing for you to take a wife soon to bare heirs."

"I am aware of the things you say, Isis."

"Then, may I offer you advice, Pharaoh?" To Atem's nod, Isis continued. "Do not allow yourself to get attached. He is but a slave. There is no future with him. It is simply not fated to be."

* * *

  **o0~0~0o**

* * *

Fate, Atem determined later that same day, was a harlot.

Like every other night these past three decans, Atem had taken Heba to bed, had touched him in places that made the boy moan beneath him and, when they were done, he held Heba in his arms and brushed at his hair, as he whispered tales to him.

Atem had done this almost instinctually now yet, despite the closeness he had felt with Heba in his arms, sleeping and waking with him by his side every night and day, the boy would always remain silent after they bedded, his aura tense and dark and eternally hateful of his predicament, which always confused Atem given the boy's willingness to fall into bed with him every time he entered his chambers.

It was this one night, however, that Atem felt something change in between them - a shift in the air that held the inklings of a turning point that would forever change the course of their relationship with one another - and it had happened when Atem had been just on the cusp of sleep.

He thought he was imagining it at first, the reluctant brush of Heba's fingertips over his palm. But then it came again, more insistent this time, and Atem heard the boy's words float to his ears.

"What happened next?"

Atem blinked, pushing the sleep away to focus on the boy who was so unexpectedly reaching out to him and engaging him in conversation. "What do you mean, little one?" he asked.

Heba looked slightly annoyed. "In the story. What happened to the man in the desert? Did he ever find the oasis?"

Atem paused for a moment. Then, he collected Heba more fully into his arms and brought his face to the crux of Heba's neck, if only so that he could hide the smile pulling at his lips. Heba would no doubt retreat into his disengaged, bitter shell if he only knew how pleased the simple question had caused Atem to be.

"It was not so simple, little one," Atem murmured, picking up where he left off. "You see, this man had begun to grow weary from his travels..."

* * *

  **o0~0~0o**

* * *

It was not a few rises later that Heba began to show Atem a slightly softer side of him.

The slave was still absurdly harsh, yes, but there was something in the way that Heba touched him now, those small hands almost fractionally warmer as they held onto Atem's biceps when the elder slid inside of him. And with each steady, slow thrust of Atem's hips, Heba seemed to arch into him just a little bit more.

It was subtle, the way that Heba would shoot him fond glances in between his looks of contempt and, despite his confusion over it all, these brief moments caused Atem's desires to bloom endlessly for the smaller boy.

Atem had practically gone out of his way the past few days just to see a hint of a smile on Heba's face or a lightening of his irises. But every time such a moment would transpire, Heba would seem to catch himself only seconds later, and his expression would harden, as if the boy was consciously attempting to strengthen his resolve to hate him.

It mattered not, though, because those fleeting moments of softness made Heba's abrasive exterior utterly worth enduring.

In fact, the one time he'd heard Heba laugh, it was like someone had reached into a place deep inside of him and had filled it with something brilliant and warm - and it felt right.

Like it was always supposed to be that way.

By the time Atem had realized that he had gone against his healer's advice and had fallen for his slave, it was already much too late to alter the course of things.

* * *

  **o0~0~0o**

* * *

The inside of Heba's thighs brushed against the outside of his as the boy lowered himself down onto his lap, encasing his arousal in a white-hot, thick heat.

Atem twined his hands in his raven hair and pressed his lips against his mouth, as Heba began to roll his hips against him. Heba's shaky breaths were like music to his ears and, when they both had found their release and Heba settled down next to him, Atem realized that he could no longer go on like this.

"These times you spend in my chambers," Atem begun quietly, bringing Heba's attention to him. "These nights that you lay your lips to mine and I bare my soul to yours... do they mean anything to you?"

Heba did not answer right away and, when the slave began to push himself off the bed and stand up, Atem let him. "I'm afraid I do not understand," Heba said evenly.

When Atem remained silent, knowing that, despite the boy's comment, further clarification on the matter was not necessary, Heba glanced over his shoulder to look at him. "I am not a slave of love, Pharaoh. I am one of sex, as is my duty as your personal slave. Have I not fulfilled my duty to your satisfaction?"

"You fulfill many things for me, Heba." Atem sat up in the bed and reached out to bring the boy back to him. He acknowledged the minuscule flinch that his action caused, and Atem immediately withdrew his hand to place it back at his side.

"I do not understand the manner in which you operate, little one," Atem whispered to him. "I fear that you are simply designed not to love me."

"I am _resigned_ not to love you, _Atem_ ," Heba shot back with more emotion in his voice than Atem thought the boy capable of. "I know what you've done, I know what your family has done. I know what you are, and I will not let you fool me with your pretty words and your tender touches. You are nothing but a heartless, cruel bas - "

The resonating smack against flesh echoed throughout the room.

Heba's hand immediately shot up to cover his stinging cheek, but he did not break eye contact with Atem, who was now standing in front of him, his red rose eyes flickering with so many emotions that trying to decipher even a single one clearly seemed a fool's task.

"I did not permit you to use my name, nor should you _ever_ speak to me in such a way again. To do so is treason." Atem hissed. "I should have you whipped - hung, even - for saying such things."

Heba lowered his hand from his face and glared at Atem, hot and fiery - an unexpected switch from his typical icy demeanor. "Do as you see fit, oh wise one. It would not be the first time my body has been punished in this place, and it surely won't be the last."

Atem's chest ached at the insinuation of Heba's words, the boy glaring at him with hate in his eyes that Atem had not witnessed in quite some time. "You deem me a man with no heart, so it must be true," Atem snapped. "If you think so lowly of me, then I will not force you to the mindless torture of laying in my bed any longer. You are hereby relieved of your duty."

It was like he had thrown a bucket of water over Heba's head, the way in which the flames in the boy's eyes had immediately extinguished. "W-what?" the slave stammered.

Atem crossed his arms over his chest, unmoved by the sudden shift in Heba's tone. "I will re-assign you to other duties - the kitchens, the halls, the stables, what have you... but you will no longer be required to come here and spend the nights with me."

"I... " Heba blinked at him, stunned at first, but his expression growing increasingly concerned. "Does this mean I'll have to...?"

Atem raised an eyebrow at him. "I will not allow you to be another's bed companion, if that is what worries you. You seem yet to understand the grip you hold over my heart, Heba. I could not bear the thought of you being with another."

Heba appeared momentarily indignant. "You just _hit_ me. How can you tell me that you feel these things towards me, but then strike me in the same breath?"

"You have no idea how your words rip me _apart_ , do you? You do not realize how what you say is like a thousand stabs of a blade directly into my heart. You struck me with the cruelest of your words with the intention to hurt me and, because I lashed out in retaliation, you now have the justification you've been seeking to hold onto that hate you have directed towards me since our first meeting," Atem said. "I have wronged you by laying a hand on you, I know that, and I knew it even as it was happening. But though my heart demands of me that I apologize and beg you for forgiveness, I know that there is nothing I can say to make it any better, Heba, because you don't want this to be _better_."

Atem did not allow Heba the chance to respond, because he knew that he had already lost this argument before it had even truly begun and to continue on would merely serve to cause him more pain.

So, he turned his back to Heba then and walked out onto his balcony, glancing behind only once to make sure his last words were heard.

"Show yourself out."

* * *

**End Part 1**

* * *

 

 


	2. Part 2

* * *

**Part 2**

* * *

Atem did not see Heba again for nearly five rises - not until he stumbled upon the boy in the halls, scrubbing the floor with a few pieces of cloth and a bucket of soapy water.

From afar, he had seen the beginning of an interaction between the slave and one of his guards who had nearly slipped on the wet surface.

The guard, tall and towering over Heba, who was kneeling on the floor, turned to the slave, face red and words loud with self-righteous fury. Atem watched as Heba stood, arms open in a stifled apology, and Atem was sure that Heba's flat, insincere tone had done little to help the situation.

Quickening his pace, Atem abandoned Mahado's side and reached the two just in time to grab hold of the guard's wrist as his hand was coming down for a blow.

"You _dare_  raise a hand to my personal servant?" Atem snapped, tightening his hand around the limb in his grasp.

The guard immediately backed away, and Atem released his wrist to allow the distance. The man bowed deep, nearly half his body bent, as he gazed woefully apologetic at the floor.

"I beg your pardon, Great Pharaoh," the guard spoke. "I was not aware that the boy belonged to you."

"To plead ignorance is a pathetic excuse," Atem said coldly. He cast a glance over his shoulder to meet Heba's slightly widened eyes, his stomach twisting at the sight of his slave that he had not seen hair of in days. And after not seeing those eyes of his in so long, Atem had to force himself to break their gaze in order to turn back to the guard. "See to it that it does not happen again, lest you wish to lose your hand."

"Yes, of course," the guard said. "Thank you for your forgiveness, Great Pharaoh."

With a wave of his hand, Atem dismissed the guard, who had wisely scurried from his sight with haste. Atem stood there in silence then, unsure of whether he should inquire as to the slave's welfare or walk away without any further acknowledgment.

He was grateful when Heba took the decision from his hands.

"Thank you, Pharaoh," the slave said quietly, almost inaudibly.

Atem, back still to Heba, lowered his gaze down to the floor. "You're welcome," he returned in the same hushed tone. He glanced back up when he felt someone approaching and recognized it to be the same High Priest that he had rushed from only minutes prior.

"Is everything alright?" Mahado asked him when close enough.

"Yes, it would appear so," Atem said to the fairly tall Egyptian. "Mahado, pass on to my staff that Heba is to complete his duties in the throne room for the remainder of the week until we can find him a more suitable position within the palace."

"Consider it done, Great Pharaoh."

Atem smiled to the High Priest in thanks and then began to walk down the hall, Mahado at his side, as they shifted the conversation back to its previous topic.

He'd done so without so much as a glance or parting farewell to Heba, because Atem assumed, correctly so, that it would simply hurt too much to attempt to interact anymore than necessary with the boy who had haunted his past consecutive eves of sleepless nights.

* * *

  **o0~0~0o**

* * *

Heba was kneeling by his throne the next day, head bowed and eyes averted to his lap when one of his guards all but dragged a white-haired man into the center of the room. It was towards the end of the day, and this was the last trial that demanded the Pharaoh's attention before he could call the council to a close. Atem briefly wondered, as the guard opened his mouth to speak, what a man with such soft brown eyes and a round face could've possibly done to warrant his case be heard by the Pharaoh and his council members.

"It is believed that this man knows the whereabouts of his brother, the Thief King, Akefia."

Atem immediately tensed, the lines in his face tightening.

Akefia had been an outlaw in his land for several harvests now. He had been responsible for the desecration of tombs, the raping of woman and children, and endless accounts of thievery. He had managed to elude capture for Atem's entire reign as Pharaoh, and Atem felt his blood boil at the thought that this man before him knew where the thief had laid his head at night and had kept such information from the crown. Even the council members were looking down at the quivering boy with disgust.

"What have you to say in your defense?" Atem questioned him harshly.

The man, though more accurately described as a young boy of no more than sixteen harvests – similar in age to his slave, he supposed - bowed his head and fell to his hands and knees, pleading to be heard and understood. "I know not of where my brother is, Great Pharaoh. I have not seen his face nor heard his voice in several harvests."

 _Guilty by association_ , Atem's thoughts supplied. _Someone should have to pay for the heinous crimes that have gone unpunished for far too long._

Atem noticed a small shift to his left and, turning only his eyes, he caught onto Heba's intense stare, the boy gazing up at him from underneath his bangs.

Their eyes met in silent understanding.

 _Mercy, Atem_ , Heba's eyes were pleading him, _I beg you. Show compassion._

Atem glanced away, hoping that pushing Heba out of sight would break the spell that compelled Atem to abide by the boy's every wish and command. But even with his gaze averted, his heart weighed heavy with the knowledge of what Heba was asking of him. This case, so alike Heba's own when he arrived, was not one to be examined with a vengeful heart.

Atem stared down at the boy kneeling before him. "You swear it upon the Gods that you have not spoken to your brother as of late?"

"I swear it," the white-haired boy said.

"And you are willing to openly disown him, thereby condemning any association with him?"

"Yes, Great Pharaoh."

Atem nodded. "Then you are to do so publicly. If you see him or come to know his location, you are ordered to return here and alert the council. If I find out that you have any information that you are not sharing with us regarding his whereabouts, there will be no leniency. You _will_ be sentenced to death. Do you understand?"

Though seemingly an appropriate and proportional response, Atem still noticed the reactions of his council - surprised blinks of his advisors and the tightened expressions of High Priests seeking to avenge the atrocities committed by any means necessary.

He realized, almost solemnly, that these reactions meant nearly nothing to him, because the curve of Heba's lips hiding beneath the shadow of his bangs made everybody else in the room all but disappear.

* * *

  **o0~0~0o**

* * *

Atem was releasing the clasps of his left arm band, seated at his vanity, when he next encountered Heba.

The boy had entered his room prior to Atem voicing permission to do so, and Atem wondered in that moment if Heba truly yearned for punishment with his ever-present lack of social graces and disregard for authority.

"You have not called me to your chambers for over a decan."

Heba's words surprised Atem, but the pharaoh did not allow it to show in his face. He merely gazed at Heba through the mirror on his vanity. "I have not," Atem said simply. "I told you I would not be doing so the last time you were in these chambers."

"You did," Heba assented. "However, you haven't even _tried_ to talk to me since that eve. You scarcely even look my way anymore, as if the very sight of me pains you. It makes me wonder... does my presence truly affect you so, Pharaoh?" Heba asked him. His expression belied no emotion, much like Atem's. "Or have you simply been seeking out others to warm your bed and no longer desire my touch?"

Atem stood then, nearly furious, as he spun around to face the slave. "That is no business of yours," he spat tensely. "Why should you care who I take to bed or whether you run through my thoughts?"

"I don't."

"Then why are you here?"

Heba bit his lip and remained silent, a response that only seemed to fuel Atem's anger at the boy's unwelcomed (yet so desperately yearned for) presence in his chambers.

"I will not play this game with you, Heba. My heart cannot take it."

Heba tilted his head. "Game?"

"What else would you call this?" Atem asked, gesturing at the space between them. "You have made it clear that you do not enjoy my presence, and yet here you are demanding to be in it."

"I... I don't..."

Heba fumbled over his words and, after a moment, snapped his mouth close and stopped speaking entirely. Atem's anger diminished only slightly to make room for genuine surprise.

Rarely was Heba speechless.

Atem groaned then, pained and frustrated and angry and so, so lonely. "What do you _want_ from me, Heba?" he begged the boy.

Yes - he, the Pharaoh of Egypt, was begging a mere slave to tell him what to do to make this all _okay_.

Heba's shoulders seemed to fall at the question. "I don't..." he said quietly. "I don't know."

Those quiet, indecisive words caused Atem's fists clench, as a way to distract himself from the awful ache in his chest. He didn't know if Heba had purposely sought him out this eve to hurt him this way; to give him a small glimmer of hope, even though he was painstakingly aware that Heba did not harbor those gentle feelings for him.

His slave could be terribly cruel at times.

Perhaps, this was just part of the game.

Atem exhaled a deep breath, deflating suddenly with exhaustion. He turned away from Heba. "Get out," he said.

Heba didn't move.

" _Leave_!"

And then his slave was gone - again.

* * *

  **o0~0~0o**

* * *

The next few rises had been tense between the Pharaoh and his slave. Throne room encounters did not encompass any shared looks or silent communication, and Heba had been immediately retreating to fulfill his evening duties after the council was called to a close.

Atem considered re-assigning Heba yet again, for the mere fact that his heart, breaking as it was, could not stand to be around Heba any longer. He wanted too many things from Heba that the boy simply could not give him.

It was while his thoughts were on the subject of reassignment and he was approaching his throne that Atem registered a slave girl with blue eyes and brown hair kneeling in Heba's place.

"Where is Heba?" he asked immediately.

"He is in the healing chambers, Great Pharaoh," she answered with a respectful bow of her head.

"He has fallen ill?" To the girl's nod, Atem followed the question with another: "Do you know the cause?"

"It is my understanding that he has been refusing to eat for several rises now, Great Pharaoh. It has made him weak and unable to properly complete his duties. I was instructed to take his place by High Priest Seth until he can resume his duties."

Atem nodded at her words. He had noticed Heba's skin to be paler during court yesterday, but thought it to be nothing. Clearly, he was mistaken. 

By the time the midday break had arrived, Atem had been feeling quiet unwell himself. It was only when he opened the doors to the healing chambers and saw Heba lying on one of the makeshift beds did the knots twisting in his stomach ease.

Heba noticed his arrival almost immediately. "Why are you here?" he asked, his skin light and his eyes weighed down with the desire for sleep.

"It has come to my attention that you are refusing to eat," Atem said, standing over his bed with crossed arms. "What is your reasoning for this?"

"I am simply not hungry," Heba snapped.

"I will ask you again and if you answer me with such debauchery, I will drag you to the kitchens and force feed you against your will. Think wisely."

Heba narrowed his eyes and stood to his feet, seemingly ready to tell Atem off. But as soon as his feet touched the floor, his malnourished and weakened body collapsed under its weight, and Atem found himself pulling the thin body into his arms. "You foolish boy," Atem muttered, his voice laced with frustrated concern. "I should take you over my knee for this."

"Just leave me be," Heba sighed against his chest, trying to push away from him.

But Atem was having none of it today, and Heba could put up little resistance when he hooked the boy's knees with an arm and carried the boy to his chambers. He waved off the guard by the door when the armored man attempted to pat Heba's shawls in search for contraband. _No one was to touch Heba_ , he relayed to the guard, and he ordered him to have the message passed on.

After Atem had settled Heba in his bed, he sent for plums and bread to be brought to his chambers. It had arrived not a few minutes later along with a jug of water, which Atem held to Heba's reluctant lips. It was only after serious threats of tying the boy down to the bed did he begin to drink.

"Why?"

Atem knew what Heba was asking of him. "I cannot explain it to my satisfaction," the Pharaoh replied simply, settling down the jug by his bedside. "So, it seem's a fool's errand to try to explain it to another."

Heba gazed up at him thoughtfully. "Simply by loving me, you risk your title and even your life."

"I am well aware of the consequences, little one," Atem said. "However, my heart seems rather insistent on the matter."

"I wish you did not care for me," Heba said. "It would make this all so much easier for both of us."

"Don't you think I've tried?" Atem asked him, seriously. "Do you know the pains of loving one that spurns you at every opportunity? If I could, I would rip my heart from my very chest just to keep it from wanting you. But since I cannot..."

Heba's eyes watched him in quiet contemplation that appeared... almost sad. "I'm sorry, Atem," he said with more gentleness and sincerity than Atem had ever seen from the boy.

Atem bit the inside of his cheek, distracting himself from the prick of his eyes, as he raised his hand to run his fingers through Heba's raven strands. "As am I," he said.

* * *

  **o0~0~0o**

* * *

"You have squandered enough time."

Heba hissed when a hand lunged from one of the darkened corners in the hall and wrapped itself around his wrist, using the leverage to twist his arm harshly behind his back.

" _Release_ me," Heba demanded between clenched teeth, as he was shoved face first against a nearby wall.

The taller man that Heba knew from his old community and who had been sentenced, like him, to a life of slavery after pleading his innocence to the Pharaoh all those months ago, only tightened his hold on Heba's wrist, hoisting his arm up even higher to send another ripple of pain through Heba's shoulder. "You were supposed to have taken care of the Pharaoh by now," the man reminded. "Why have you not followed through with your vow?"

Heba hid a wince behind a snarl. "He has not summoned me to his chambers in quite some time. Before that, his guards were checking my person every eve for possible weapons. Now, release me this _instant_."

The man finally complied and, when Heba turned to look at him, he noticed how half the man's face was obscured by the shadows the darkness of the halls provided. "If you have to keep spreading your legs to gain his trust, then do so," the man spat.

"His trust is not the issue anymore."

"Then what is?" At Heba's hesitation, the man hissed. "Must I remind you of what he has done to those we love? Must I remind you of your dead family?

Heba nearly lunged at him for the careless words. "I do not need a reminder of what happened. I was _there_."

"Then avenge your mother and your father, you pathetic boy. Each day that the Pharaoh wakes and breathes in air is a slight to your family's untimely demise," he said. "If you do not take action soon, I can assure you that I will. With or without you, the Pharaoh's days are numbered, and they will only continue to dwindle with each passing of Ra."

* * *

  **o0~0~0o**

* * *

Atem found Heba in the gardens, plucking fruit from a tree not long after the boy had been deemed fit enough to work again. Without giving himself time to think the action over, Atem found his arms wrapped around the boy's torso, spinning him to face him and pressing his lips against his.

He retracted before Heba could respond, his arms still encircled around him. "I know where you stand with me," Atem said as way of explaining his actions, "but I had the thought this morning that there might be a time where I will not be graced with the sight of you; that I will not hear your voice or feel your touch. So, I wanted a memory with you that I could hold on to in case I am ever to be separated from you. I hope you will not hate me more for it."

Heba did not respond right away but, as Atem began to unwind his arms from his waist, Heba felt himself grab onto Atem's wrist in a fleeting moment of panic. "Wait," he said, surprising them both. Heba briefly reconsidered backtracking, but somehow felt compelled to follow with what he'd started. "Can you... kiss me again? It would not hurt to have just one more memory, I suppose."

* * *

  **o0~0~0o**

* * *

Heba came to his room that night, his eyes a darkened storm, and Atem sighed deeply, as if finally at peace, when the boy crawled into the bed and asked Atem to make love to him.

He must have fallen asleep shortly after they had finished, for the next thing he knew, Heba was standing over him, a dagger in his hand, the blade of which was being held directly over his heart.

Atem did not react the way he had always imagined he would if he were to ever awake to the threat of death. And it was maybe that he had always secretly welcomed it that led him to do little more than blink, vision bleary with sleep, and look up at Heba and the boy's shaking hand. But then he supposed that his lack of reaction had more to do with the thought that if Heba wanted him dead, then perhaps life really wasn't worth carrying on any longer.

"I still love you," Atem whispered, his tone condoning, already forgiving him. "Not even you, dear Heba, can change that."

" _Damn_ you."

There was a clang of metal against tile as Heba threw the dagger across the floor, and then glared down at the quiet Pharaoh, angry tears flowing from his eyes.

"My family didn't have _anything_ to do with the rebellion in the city market last harvest. But my father, he did not care for the fear and panic that your father and his father instilled in this land and its people. He sought out civilians who felt similar and, when the uprise transpired, my father - who was _not_ involved in the violence that took place - fled with me and my mother along with the others out of fear of what would happen to us if anyone knew of his ties with those responsible. All those months ago, when your soldiers stormed into _my_ home, they killed my father because he resisted. Then, they _murdered_ my mother right in front of me, simply because she tried to stop them from taking me. The only reason I did not fight back and avenge their deaths is because she made me promise her that, no matter what, I had to live. So, here I am, _living_ a life of slavery and serving the man responsible for the death of my parents. _You_ did this to me."

The abundance of tears in his eyes blurred his vision, making Atem's figure in the bed blend and fuse and merge together until Heba could no longer make out the details of his face or distinguish the outline of his body from the bed sheets. His own body felt heavy with the weight of his pain, and he fell to his knees when the burden had become too much to bear. "But I cannot kill you, because despite it all, my hearts yearns for you," Heba admitted through his tears. "You are all I know. You are all I have left. In this world, there is no one but you, and I want to hate you, Atem, I want to, but with every fiber of my being, I cannot wish it so."

Heba, too blinded and deaf by his own misery, did not hear Atem slip off the bed nor did he see the man fall to his knees in front of him. It was only when he felt fingers pushing against the underside of his jaw did he even register that Atem was before him.

"Heba." Atem whispered, his eyes an agonizing shade of burgundy. He moved his hand from the slave's chin to press it instead to the side of the boy's face in a fruitless attempt to wipe away his tears. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I didn't know that... I... Please, _forgive_ me for what I've done to you."

"Atem," the boy sobbed. "I don't want to live like this anymore. The grief I have endured these past few months, the losses that led to my current orphaned state is almost too much to bear. And yet, the suffering is nil compared to that of my heart when I look at you, for I know that I will never be with you in the way that my heart desires to. I simply cannot reconcile the knowledge of your role in my grief with the love I have for you in my heart. None of that even matters though, for even if I could wish it so, you are still the Pharaoh and I, a slave. And the Pharaoh shall never be with slave."

In one slow movement, Atem brought Heba's face to his and pressed his lips against his mouth. "Then take this crown away," he whispered against Heba's parted lips. "I do not want it. I never wanted it. All I want in this world is to be with you."

"You know not what you say."

"I know _exactly_ what I say."

"How... Why do you love me so, Atem? I have treated you cruelly, I planned to strike you where you lay your head, I -"

"Do you believe that matters of the heart are intended to be logical, little Heba?" Atem asked him. "I love not what you do nor the words you say. I love the quality of your soul, and the heart in your chest that you claim yearns for me. By your own admission, you love me despite the pain that I have caused you. Love is simply not a rational entity, and we cannot treat it as such, little one."

The Pharaoh brushed Heba's damp cheekbones with his thumbs, his own eyes beginning to burn with the threat of tears. "I... I almost wish you would have killed me, Heba," Atem mumbled hopelessly, "for I am now burdened with knowledge that I do not wish to have."

Heba's distressed cries came harder now, and Atem leaned up on his knees to pull the boy flush against him, embracing him full and trying to comfort him with whispered endearments. Then, after his cries had quieted and his body had stilled, Atem guided him out onto the balcony and settled him there with a promise to return.

At a loss of what to do and broken in more ways than one, Atem summoned Isis to his chambers, and they conversed in quiet tones as Heba utilized the warm gentle night to soothe his inner turmoil, sitting out on the balcony with his chin on his knees and his arms wrapped around his legs.

Atem let his eyes slid over the hunched figure outside, and he exhaled deeply. "What am I to do?" he murmured aloud.

"Is the course of action not clear, Pharaoh?" Isis questioned. "He has threatened your life. He must be executed for his crimes."

Atem gazed sharply at his healer at the suggestion. "I will _not_ have him sentenced to death."

Isis met his eyes. "Exile, then," she said.

"Exile _is_ a death sentence." Atem said quietly. "He has no where to go. He has no family left, _because_ of me. There is no way he will survive on his own."

A flash of confusion touched Isis's eyes momentarily. "He admitted to conspiring to kill you, Pharaoh," she said simply. "He cannot be allowed to stay. It is your duty to see to it that he faces the consequences of his actions."

Duty. Fate. Destiny.

Atem was so _sick_ of hearing those words. He'd been plagued with them since birth, and they had always been ominous sayings - never did they hold a hopeful, uplifting meaning in their undertones. These words had dictated his entire life, and Atem felt that childish want that he had desired so long ago re-emerge.

Once again, he wanted so desperately... to simply be free.

"You are right, Isis. It is time to take action," Atem said resolutely. "I ask you only one favor to ease this burden for me?" Isis nodded, and he continued. "Please allow me to handle this matter here in my chambers. I want this to be taken care of quietly, rather than dragging him publicly through a trial."

Isis seemed reluctant to agree, but eventually did so. "Very well," she conceded.

"Thank you, Isis. Will you fetch me the required vial from your healing chambers? And a bottle of wine from the kitchens?"

Isis bowed her head. "Of course, Great Pharaoh."

* * *

  **o0~0~0o**

* * *

Atem poured the vial's contents into the wine glass and spun the red liquid around with a swirl of the stem. He turned to the boy still seated on the floor out on the balcony and held out the glass to him with a sad smile.

"Do you believe in reincarnation, little one?" Atem asked him.

Heba's eyes were rimmed with silent tears - ones that flowed freely, yet quietly now. He took the offered glass in his hands and met Atem's gaze. "I am inclined to, yes."

Atem nodded and took a moment to gaze out into the vast expanse of the night around them. The lights of the city were glowing like embers down below them, yet they were dismal flames in comparison to the stars that blanketed the sky above them.

"In another life," Atem began quietly, eyes still staring out over the balcony railing, "I believe our souls will meet again. We are victims of fate, you see, and I truly believe that you and I are fated to be..." Atem turned to look down at Heba, anguish in his eyes. "Just not right now."

Heba tilted his head back to look up at the Pharaoh. "Another time, then?"

Atem nodded. "It is my hope that the Gods will grant us mercy in our next life, and we will be given the chance to love each other the way I believe we were always meant to."

"How can you be certain that we will find each other again?"

Atem reached out towards Heba and waited for the boy to slip the hand not holding onto the wine glass into his open palm. "Because," Atem said, enclosing his fingers over Heba's smaller hand. "As your heart yearns for me, my soul calls out for yours. I will find you again, Heba."

As soon as he had been pulled onto his feet, Heba leaned into Atem's chest and inhaled a deep breath as the elder's arms encircled his waist. "I hope that you do not intend to keep me waiting long, Atem," he said softly. "You seem to have a habit of running late to engagements."

Atem chuckled and leaned back far enough to look fondly at the boy in his embrace. "I promise that I find you as fast as I can." Atem glanced down at the glass of untouched wine residing between them in Heba's grasp. "Drink, Heba, we do not have much time - no, no, little one, _please_ don't cry anymore. I can't bare to see you cry."

Heba shook his head, the tears flowing anew down his cheeks. "It's just..." he whispered. "It's like... I already miss you."

"And I, you." Atem pressed his lips to Heba's temple and guided the boy back inside the room with slow, backward steps. "Drink, my love. I will be right here with you."

The words seemed to be what Heba needed to hear, for he had drank nearly half the wine, before they had even reached the bed. Atem took the glass from his hand and placed it on the stand by his bed, before lowering them both down onto the sheets.

Atem curled his arms around the small frame and pressed Heba close, taking in breaths that almost trembled when they touched his lips.

"Tell me a story, Atem," Heba murmured to him. "Like you used to."

Atem bit his lip, hard, but only so Heba didn't have to see him cry. "Okay," Atem said after a few moments. "There was once a Pharaoh -"

"Was he a handsome Pharaoh?"

"Offensively so," Atem said. "And this handsome Pharaoh, well, one day, he came across a boy, with eyes the color of wine and skin touched by the moon, who's beauty rivaled the rays of Ra's light."

"Did the Pharaoh... love him?"

"With everything he had in this world."

Atem let the words flow and his voice carry around the room in hushed tones, as he tightened his hold around Heba, the boy stopping him now and again to ask him questions and push him along.

And Atem continued on, even as the boy's breath became shallow and his interruptions less frequent.

"Atem… I t-think... that..."

"Shhh," Atem whispered to him. "Speak no more, my dearest Heba. You no longer need to use your words, for my heart hears you just fine without them," Atem said, his voice steady even through the tears that had begun to run down his face.

Atem pressed his lips to Heba's, a silent farewell, and he could taste the wine on the boy's mouth - a drink made from the sweetest grapes that he had laced with an even sweeter poison.

When Atem withdrew his lips from Heba's own, he found those eyes staring up at him, unblinking and unfocused.

The sound that came from his throat, from his very soul, was a sob of pure agony, and as his tears began to trickle from his chin and make little splashes on Heba's pale face, Atem brought his fingers to fall over the lids of Heba's eyes and close them shut.

Leaning over the bed, Atem took the wine glass and finished the remainder of its liquid content, then laid back down to embrace the boy in his arms. "You see, Heba, this boy that the Pharaoh had crossed paths with, he was all he had in this lonely world," Atem said, whispering his final story. "And this Pharaoh... well, let's just say, that he could not wait to see him again."

* * *

  **Part 2: End**

* * *

 


	3. Part 3

* * *

**Part 3**

_Year: Fall 2015_

* * *

" _Page the doctor!_ "

It was less than five minutes after the announcement that Dr. Yugi Motou skidded into the emergency room, his stethoscope bouncing against his collarbone as he approached the growing crowd by Room 6.

"Talk to me," Yugi ordered the second he was within earshot. "What do we got?"

"Hit and run," Anzu Mazaki, the ER Charge Nurse, said steadily. "He has an open femur fracture that needs immediate attention," she said, gesturing to the bone protruding out of the unconscious patient's leg. "The rest of his injuries are rather minor, though he has a few lacerations that will require stitches. Frankly, I'm more concerned with his head. According to bystanders, he cracked it pretty hard against the pavement after impact."

"Possible TBI then," Yugi said aloud, as Anzu passed him a patient care order to sign off on to allow the continued administration of meds. "If his brain is swelling, we need to relieve any intracranial pressure, stat. Start a course of Lapezanine to keep his blood pressure lowered."

Taking a moment's pause from the rush and panic around him, Yugi allowed himself to glance down at the patient's face, only then registering the man's features. He fumbled with the pen in his hand for only a second's time, then looked away to tuck the signed order into the patient's bedside chart.

The next thing he knew, the monitor hooked around one of the nearby IV poles began alarming with a shrill blare, alerting everyone to the patient's spiking vitals and his plummeting heart rate.

"We need to intubate him _now_ ," Yugi ordered with firm urgency in his tone.

"We need to get him to the operating room for his leg, before he bleeds out," another doctor said.

"If we don't secure a steady flow of oxygen to his brain then he won't _need_ a leg," Yugi snapped. "Intubate him now, then fasten a tourniquet around the limb to decrease the blood flow to the site. We'll get him up to the OR as soon as he stabilizes."

Anzu was already inserting an oral airway down the patient's throat by the time Yugi had finished giving the orders. She squeezed the attached air bag at even intervals to aid in the oxygen flow, and as the meds began to kick in and the patient's vitals steadied once more, Yugi decided that now was as good a time as any for transfer.

Unlocking the brakes of the medical stretcher, Yugi, along with a small team of nurses and clinical assistants, grasped onto the railings and ran down the halls to the operating room.

Yugi went as far as the OR doors, before a different set of medical staff took over and wheeled the patient into the room and out of his sight. He relayed all relevant information to the appropriate parties of the OR's surgeons and staff. Yugi wasn't a surgeon himself and would not be participating in the resetting of the patient's femur, but the head trauma still concerned him.

No sooner than Yugi had finished his pass on did his pager go off again.

He was needed back in the ER.

Yugi felt his chest clench at the thought of leaving this man behind in the OR, and it was such an unfamiliar and foreign sensation that Yugi felt immediately at unease. He swallowed the emotion down, set it aside somewhere out of his reach and locked it away for the time being, because his job did not allow him the luxury nor time to dwell on such anxious feelings.

So, pushing away the nerves gnawing at his stomach and the emotions pricking at his heart, Yugi returned to the ER to focus on the other patients who needed him for the remainder of his twelve-hour shift.

Yet, as soon as he had clocked out, Yugi had found himself in one of the OR's recovery room with his hip leaning against the open doorframe and his gaze glued on the unconscious man across the room.

 _Yami Sennen_ , his license had read.

Yugi listened to the steady beep of the heart monitor in the room, as his thoughts wandered.

Yami was breathing on his own again, much to the staff's relief, but head injuries - especially ones as traumatic as this - were unpredictable at best.

They was no telling when - or if - Yami would wake up.

However, on the assumption that he did rise to consciousness, the man still could very likely have some long-term brain damage due to the accident. There was simply no way of telling at this time. The medical team had done all they could do. The rest was in Yami's hands.

Yugi sighed at the thought and pushed himself off the door frame, advancing into the room with slow steps. Stopping at the patient's bedside, Yugi studied the man's bruised and marred facial features. He bit his bottom lip in thought. "I have the strangest sense of déjà vu," Yugi whispered aloud. "I feel like... I've seen you somewhere before."

Yugi glanced down to scan the length of the man's body, then reached out for the hand lying limply on top of the hospital bed sheets, taking it in his grasp. "Come on, Yami. I'm sure you have a lot of people who would miss you if you didn't pull through. Please don't give up. You have to fight this. You need to wake up now. I need... to meet you."

Yugi had always had excellent bedside manner. It was one of his qualities that endeared patients and families alike to him. But the words that were filling his throat and begging to be spoken, though they belonged to him, felt like they were coming from a place that he hadn't even known existed before this moment.

And these words were so thick and coated with emotion that the sheer consuming nature of them threw him completely off-balance.

Yugi nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the hand he was holding onto tighten fractionally around his. In that second, while his heart stammered against his ribcage, a fresh wave of anxiety, dread, and desperation rushed through him.

But they were all barely felt, having been overpowered by the pure sensation of  _hope_ blossoming in his chest.

"There you go, Yami," Yugi murmured, returning the minute movement with a squeeze of his own. "Come back to me. I'm right here, and I'm waiting."

_I've been waiting forever for you._

His voice must have called out to the part of Yami that needed to hear it, because not a moment later did Yami's eyelids flutter open to meet his gaze. The color of his irises reminded Yugi of desert sunsets and sweet roses - and in that moment, nothing else existed in this entire world but them.

Suddenly, the emotions that had been flooding and crashing inside of him began to _pour_ out of him.

Yugi could not explain why his eyes started to burn; he could not understand the blurring of his vision or the streams of tears that began flowing from his eyes. All Yugi knew was that this reaction was coming from somewhere deep, deep inside him…

It almost felt as if his soul was crying.

"Hey _you_." Yugi whispered with a smile. "You found me," he said, though he wasn't sure why.

Yami must have been as disoriented as Yugi felt, because he was suddenly releasing Yugi's hand to reach up and hold the side of Yugi's face, brushing the tears away with gentle strokes of his thumb.

Yami smiled up at him - and it was like... he was seeing him again for the first time in far too long.

" _Finally,_ " Yami breathed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, kudos, and bookmarks! You guys rock! :)


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